


For One Night

by orphan_account



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during S02E07. After investigating suspects all day in Sandbrook, Hardy and Miller agree to have one night where they don't talk about the trial or the case. Predictably, they end up saying a lot of things better left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For One Night

**Author's Note:**

> This fic assumes that a week has passed since Hardy's surgery. It is set in S02E07, beginning just after they interviewed Ricky Gillespie, and fills in the night they passed together in Sandbrook.

Miller lowered the phone from her ear. The ringing from Ricky’s office subsided. Exchanging troubled glances, Hardy and Miller returned to the car and got in.

‘What do you think?’ Hardy asked as he slammed the door shut.

‘I don’t know.’ Miller put the key in the engine. ‘Do you really think Ricky would be able to kill those girls? His niece? His _daughter?_ ’

‘He doesn’t have an alibi anymore. And anyone’s capable of anything-’

‘-Given the right circumstances,’ Miller finished. ‘I know.’ She groaned and leaned her forehead on the steering wheel. ‘God, this is doing my head in. No wonder it drove you crazy.’

She closed her eyes and sighed. Hardy’s gaze flicked over her.

‘Let’s get something to eat,’ he suggested.

Miller sat up, looking exhausted. ‘There’s no time. If we want to make it back tonight we need to leave now.’

She keyed the engine and the car rumbled to life. She tried to put it into gear, but Hardy arrested her, placing his hand over hers. ‘Miller. You’re tired. You haven’t eaten all day. Let’s just go get something to eat and stay at a hotel tonight. We can leave early tomorrow.’

His hand was warm. He let it linger just a fraction of a second too long before he pulled away. ‘Suppose it won’t make a difference either way,’ Miller acquiesced. She shifted the gearstick and drove out of the lot. Glancing in her mirror, she could see Ricky staring at them through the curtains of his tiny office. She shuddered and looked away. ‘Did you have somewhere in mind?’

‘I know a place.’

He directed her quietly. Miller wrung her hand on the steering wheel, perturbed that she could still feel the sensation of his hand on hers.

 *

He took her to a small winery just out of town. It was a beautiful old place with smartly-dressed waiters and a wood-fire oven burning near the entrance. Through the enormous windows an enchanting rustic idyll stretched beneath the indigo sky, a blanket of rolling green hills and neatly pruned vines stitched together with barbwire fences.

‘Blimey, what a view,’ Miller breathed as she pulled in her chair. ‘When you said we were going to get something to eat I thought you meant cheap and greasy. This is so nice.’

She looked over at Hardy and smiled faintly. A candle burned between them, strong and bright.

‘We could use a break after today.’

Miller’s mind went instantly to what had happened in court. She could still hear the barrister’s voice, harsh and accusing – _You bribed your sister so you could continue your affair with DI Hardy, didn’t you? Didn’t you?_

‘White tablecloths and everything,’ she went on, falsely bright, trying to distract herself. She lifted the edge and played with it, folding it over in her hands.

A waiter approached them with menus and water.

‘Our special tonight is pork belly with roasted chestnuts, apple sauce and pine mushrooms,’ he pronounced as he poured their water for them. ‘Please tell me if you have any questions about our menu or the wine selection.'

Hardy nodded his acknowledgment and the waiter left. Miller opened the menu and immediately went blank-faced. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she whispered, ‘What’s veloute?’

‘What?’

She propped the menu open. ‘I don’t recognise half the things on here,’ she admitted. ‘Veloute. Chervil. Burrata. What the hell is burrata?’

‘It’s a kind of cheese.’

‘Oh look! Chips!’ She pointed. ‘But even these are weird. “Hand-cut, twice-cooked, seasoned with rosemary and rock salt.” Bloody hell, do they have to make the chips sound fancy?’

Hardy looked amused. ‘You’re not very cultured, are you Miller?’

‘What’s that mean?’

‘I take you to a fancy restaurant and you go straight for the chips. You’re like a kid.’

‘Well I’m not getting that burrito stuff.’

‘Burrata.’

‘Whatever.’

‘How about we go for the safe option? "Pizza, fresh-made and cooked in a wood-fire oven."’

‘Works for me.’

She folded the menu. Hardy pulled out his phone, squinted at it, and put it away again.

‘How come you keep checking your phone?’ Miller asked.

‘I texted Daisy to say I’d be close tonight.’ He let all the air out of his lungs at once. ‘Still waiting on a reply.’

‘Ah, so _that’s_ why you wanted to stay the night.’

‘Yeah. That and I didn’t want you driving on an empty stomach. You get cranky when you don’t eat.’

‘Bullshit.’

He raised an eyebrow at her. She sat back, already defeated. ‘All right. Guilty. But why did you take me here? What’s so special about this place?’

‘It’s nice,’ Hardy shrugged. ‘I came here once ages ago for a work do. I remember liking it so I thought I’d take you.’

‘Is that the whole story?’

‘You were expecting something more?’

Miller shrugged. Then she put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, her head in her hands. ‘Ricky Gillespie is driving me mad. He must have had something to do with it. But I can’t figure out how that fits in with the evidence implicating Lee. And then where does Claire come into it? None of it makes sense. It’s like one of those pointillism paintings. The closer you are, the less you see.’ Hardy made no sign of interjecting so she continued, ‘I can’t stop thinking about what happened it court today either. Bribery. Police brutality. Adultery. That woman has smeared my name to kingdom come. How’s Joe ever gonna get convicted now? What if he does get free? I feel like this nightmare’s never gonna stop.’

‘How’s Tom?’ Hardy interrupted.

‘What?’

‘Tom. Your boy Tom. How is he?’

She looked suspicious. ‘What are you asking me that for?’

‘Let’s not talk about the case tonight. Or the trial. Just for one night, let’s talk about normal things.’

She blinked. ‘Are you serious?’

He nodded.

‘So what do we talk about? Sorry – I mean, it’s just that you’re not the chattiest person I know.’

‘Tell me about Tom,’ he repeated.

‘You really want to know?’

‘Course.’

‘Oh. Okay. Well, as you know, I haven’t seen him much over the last five months. Now that he’s living with me again, I’ve learned so much. Puberty’s hit him like a big school bus. I swear he must have grown at least a foot. He told me he’s getting into sports at school, and because he’s so big all the other boys want him on their football team…’

*

The candle burned low. The pizza was all gone and Miller had nearly finished her second glass of wine. Hardy, still recovering from surgery, had foregone alcohol.

‘Anything else for you?’ the waiter asked as he cleared away their dishes.

‘Just the cheque,’ Hardy told him.

The waiter obliged. Hardy covered the costs and they left.

‘Goodnight, sir,’ the waiter said. ‘I hope you and your wife have a lovely evening!’

‘Oh no, we’re not…’

‘She’s actually my….’

They floundered to explain the situation. ‘We’re partners,’ Hardy managed.

‘Oh, sorry. I forgot, most folks don’t get married these days. Well, you and your partner have a lovely evening, then!’

Hardy and Miller exchanged dubious glances and left without challenging him a second time.

‘Partners?’ Miller hissed as they got outside. ‘That hardly cleared things up.’

‘I should’ve just shown him my badge.’ As they reached the car, Hardy said, ‘Wait. You drank at dinner. I dunno if you should drive yet.’

‘You can’t take me to a winery and expect me not to drink,’ Miller protested. ‘Besides, I only had two.’

‘Two can be enough to put you over. How often do you drink?’

‘Once in a blue moon.’

‘And how much do you weigh?’

‘You can’t just ask me that!’

‘I’m trying to calculate how much you might be over. Female, mid-forties, about… what, eleven stone?’

‘Are you asking me to kick you in the balls? Because that’s all I’m hearing.’

‘Let’s give it another twenty minutes to be sure.’

‘Fine.’ Miller slammed the door shut.

‘We’re not waiting in the car?’

‘No,’ Miller said, and promptly seated herself on the hood. Hardy joined her awkwardly, pulling his coat tight around him as he did. Their breaths fogged in the chilly air. Miller looked at the sky. The Milky Way splashed above them, luminous and endless.

‘Do you think things will ever go back to normal?’ she asked.

‘Define normal.’

‘I know I can’t get my old life back, but… I just want things to feel normal again. I want routine and mediocrity. I want my usual job, my friends. I want to walk down the street without getting stared at.’

‘It will get better,’ he offered uneasily.

‘Did it get better for you?’

‘For a long time, it got worse,’ he admitted. ‘But things are turning around now. I think.’

‘Since the surgery?’

Hardy was quiet for a moment. ‘Aye.’

‘I’m still cross with you for not telling me about that. For sneaking off and sending me a bloody text.’

‘You had more important things to worry about.’

‘You could have died! What could have been more important?’

‘The trial!’

‘You think I value the trial above your life?’

‘Don’t you?’

‘For fuck’s sake!’ Miller burst out. ‘Don’t you say that. Don’t you _dare_ say that. God, you are so fucking stupid sometimes.’ She smouldered. ‘At least tell me that your recovery’s going well. Are you taking your medication? Attending your check-ups?’

‘ _Yes,’_ Hardy said irritably.

‘And? What’s the outlook?’

‘Complete success. I feel better, too. Almost as soon as I woke up I had this energy I hadn’t felt in so long. Enough energy to close the case once and for all.’

‘Is that all you think about?’ Miller asked. Her anger dissipated, her words changed from red to blue. ‘Closing the case? There must be something else to live for.’

‘Daisy,’ Hardy said automatically.

‘And what else? When we close this case, what will you do?’

Hardy seemed dumbfounded by the question, as though he had not considered the possibility of a future not plagued by Sandbrook.

‘I dunno,’ he admitted. ‘Move close to Daisy.’

‘Will you look for another DI job? Start dating again?’

‘Dating? We’ll see. The ladies aren’t exactly lining up.’

Miller rubbed her upper arms. ‘Do you… find it hard to feel… _ready_ to start dating?’

‘I was married for fifteen years,’ he said drily.

‘Because I… I want to move on from Joe. I’m trying. I’ve been so lonely lately, but I…I’m afraid. I feel… _tainted_ by him.’ She couldn't stop the words from pouring out. ‘I keep thinking, how could anyone love me, knowing I’m the ex-wife of a paedophile? How could I be _worthy_ of love, the woman who let her husband murder her best friend’s son?’

‘What he did does not reflect on you,' Hardy said sharply. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that.’

‘But it’s true. The murderer’s ex-wife. That’s all I am. And now that bloody barrister’s out there telling everyone I’m a corrupt cop and a crap mum and an adulterer.’ Hardy flinched at every word. ‘No one could ever love me now.’

‘You’re wrong.’ His voice was soft. 'Those things... they're just superficial. The real you underneath, the you that someone is going to fall in love with, is so much more. You're...' He grimaced. All of a sudden his vast vocabulary fled and left him destitute. 'You're a good person,' he finished lamely. He seemed loath to leave it at that, so he added, 'And I'm sorry. 'Bout earlier today, when I shouted at you. I shouldn't have.'

'It's fine,' she replied, wiping her nose. 'I deserved it, really. I basically bribed my sister. God, what was I thinking?' She shook her head and sighed. 'I should say sorry too. I shouldn't have said you were terrible company. You're not. You're not, you know. I... like spending time with you.'

'I like spending time with you too.'

Flattening her hair to her head with one hand, she smiled at him and amended, 'when you're not being an idiot, that is.'

He huffed and turned away. She shifted her weight, and as she did her hand brushed against his. He glanced at her and she withdrew her hand like she'd been stung, her face burning.

The touch appeared to catalyse something in Hardy. 'Miller,' he murmured. 'I -'

Suddenly his phone went off, harsh and discordant. Miller let out the breath she did not realise she was holding as Hardy groped for the device. Pulling it out, he squinted at the caller ID and answered it.

‘Hello, darlin’,’ he said. His wintry mood melted away at once and his face and voice became as soft as sunlight on a Spring day.

He hopped off the hood of the car and wandered to the other end of the carpark. Illuminated by a streetlight, he cut a striking figure. Where he had shuffled and skulked before, he strode purposefully now, upright and attentive. As she traced the outline of his silhouette, he turned suddenly and made eye contact with her. He smiled, and she knew the smile was for her.

Then he turned away again, chattering indistinctly. After ten minutes or so, during which time Miller’s eyes never left him, he returned to the car.

‘Daisy was with her friends at the cinema,’ he explained. ‘Didn’t get my message til just now. Said she was sorry she missed me but she wants to see me soon. She was thinking maybe next weekend if everything works out.’

He beamed, more luminous than the moon. ‘I’m happy for you,’ Miller said sincerely. ‘Do you want to get in? I think I’m all right to drive now.’

They got in the car and Miller followed the road to the hotel. Hardy prattled about his daughter the whole way.

He really did look beautiful when he smiled.

*

Their failure to book ahead meant that, once again, there were no single beds available at the hotel. Glancing at each other, they accepted the double bed without a fuss.

‘At least we have a system worked out,’ Miller said as they headed to their room.

‘Next time we should just go to a different hotel,’ Hardy muttered. ‘This one’s -’

Miller jabbed her elbow into his stomach to silence him just as a maid came around the corner.

‘Everything all right?’ she asked brightly.

‘Fine,’ Miller said.

‘Lovely thanks,’ Hardy mumbled, clutching his belly.

‘Give me a shout if you need anything. Enjoy your stay!’

She bustled off down the hall and their smiles disappeared instantly.

‘Bloody shite,’ Hardy finished as Miller unlocked the door.

The room was identical to the one they had shared a few weeks ago, except the bedspread was crimson, not purple.

‘It was good thinking to stop and get toothbrushes,’ Miller said, upending her purse on the bed. ‘I wouldn’t be able to sleep without brushing my teeth. Shame we couldn’t get pyjamas though.’

It was barely nine-thirty, but the prospect of an early drive made the bed look very inviting. Removing his jacket, Hardy rolled up his shirtsleeves and ran his hands through his hair with a tired sigh. Miller found herself blushing unaccountably at the sight. Turning away quickly, she retreated to the bathroom. Hardy followed her and they brushed their teeth together.

‘So what’s Daisy’s favourite subject at school?’ Miller prompted.

‘Used to be art. She was always doing pretty pictures. Not sure about now. Think she’s a wee bit fed up with school, to be honest.’

Miller finished brushing her teeth and started to take the clips out of her hair, teasing it with her fingers. Hardy spat into the basin and rinsed his brush next to her.

‘I wouldn’t worry too much,’ Miller advised. ‘All kids get like that. I used to bunk off all the time when I was her age.’

Hardy looked mortified. ‘I never said she was a truant!’

‘Oh. Well I’m sure she’s not.’ She quickly changed the subject. ‘Do you have a photo of her? I’d like to see what she looks like.’

The troubled expression left him. ‘Yeah. In my wallet. I’ll get it for you.’

They exited the bathroom. Miller went to the bed and turned on the lamp beside her. It filled the room with a weak, yellow light.

Hardy walked to the nearby chair, picked his suit jacket off the back and fumbled with the pockets. ‘It’s a wee bit old,’ he cautioned as he pulled out his wallet. ‘She’s all big now. But this is my favourite picture of her.’

He opened his wallet and pulled out a small photo. Two other photos fell out at the same time. Hardy froze. The hand gripping Daisy’s picture trembled.

‘What?’ Miller asked. ‘What is it?’

Hardy bent slowly and retrieved the fallen photos with his right hand. Sensing something was very wrong, Miller left the bed and approached him. ‘Hardy? What’s wrong?’

He made an odd noise at the back of his throat, like he was having trouble breathing. He seemed unaware of his surroundings.

‘Hardy,’ she said again. She placed a hand on his shoulder. Only when she touched him did he start breathing again. Miller glimpsed the photos in his hand.

‘Is that Pippa and Lisa?’ she asked.

He nodded.

‘Why have you got them in your wallet?’

‘To remind me,’ he mumbled.

‘You carry them with you?’

Another nod, more painful.

She placed her hand on his right wrist, lowering the photos of the dead girls. ‘Show me Daisy,’ she said softly.

He was shaking beneath her grip. He held up the picture of Daisy and Miller looked at it.

‘Oh,’ she smiled. ‘She’s beautiful. She looks like you. Let’s just hope she’s hasn’t inherited the height.’

She hoped the joke might soften him up. But then he said, ‘I thought it was her.’

‘Pardon?'

Hardy turned to her. ‘When I found Pippa. I thought it was Daisy in the water.’ He gathered the photographs together with a sigh, put them back in his wallet and set it down. ‘I had only just dropped her off to school that morning. She forgot her lunch. I had to go in and give it to her and she got all embarrassed when I kissed her goodbye. Later, when I was walking down by the river, I saw… this little body. Brown hair. And I thought… even though it didn’t make sense, I thought -’

It was all so familiar. Miller did not let him finish. She moved forward, put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

‘I remember seeing Danny on the beach,’ she whispered. Her throat was tight. ‘I thought it was my Tom, just for a second. And when I realised it was Danny, I was glad. I was _glad._ ’

He felt like a breathing statue in her arms. Slowly, he returned the hug, coiling his arms around her waist and pressing his head into her shoulder.

For the longest time, they held each other. The pain ebbed away, flowing free like a receding tide. Miller sighed and lay her cheek against his hair. He felt good beneath her hands, warm and vital. She had missed this touch. She had missed this touch so much. A man's touch. A man's _loving_ touch. It made her ache all over. As his hands moved slowly down the small of her back and his hips pressed closer to her, the ache turned to an exquisite burning desire. She adjusted her grip and held him a little tighter.

‘Ahh.’ He winced with pain and she released him at once.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Bit tight. On…’ He gestured to the left side of his chest and grunted in lieu of finishing the sentence.

‘Oh. Sorry, I forgot. Is it painful?’

‘Less every day. Pacemaker’s working like a charm. It’s just the wound from the operation that takes a little longer to heal. Won’t be able to raise my left arm for a while.’

‘Can I see it?’

Hardy hesitated. Then he nodded and untucked his shirt. Before he could do anything else, Miller’s fingers were at his throat. She undid each of the buttons in turn, slowly. Hardy let his hands drop to his side as she worked down his body. His Adam’s apple quivered and he swallowed thickly. She was so close he could feel her breath on his skin.

When her fingers unhooked the last button, she ran her hands up his chest and slipped the shirt from his shoulders, drawing the sleeves down his arms. All that remained was his white undershirt. This she lifted from the bottom, her fingers brushing his abdominal muscles. She worked it over his head and right shoulder first, then drew it down the left arm so it did not disturb the operation site.

Divested of his armour, he stood before her, a wounded soldier carved from mahogany. A white bandage taped below his collarbone interrupted the serenity of his speckled, honey-coloured skin.

She touched it lightly. ‘Did that hurt?’

He shook his head. She explored the site a little more and found the shape of the pacemaker with her fingertip, a hard little disc wedged beneath his skin. She traced around it. A shiver went through Hardy and he broke out in goosebumps.

‘No more broken heart,’ she said.

‘No,’ he agreed.

She raised her head to look at him. His eyes were dark. His hands settled on her waist and he lowered his head to kiss her.

It was a warm, chaste kiss, and it lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away. They watched each other for another long moment. Then Miller stood on tiptoes, put her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him into a second kiss, much deeper this time.

Hardy’s right hand tangled in her hair. The left, still hampered by the weight on his heart, remained at waist level. He tentatively tugged her shirt loose. Sucking on his bottom lip, Miller hooked her finger in his belt.

'Can you?' she asked.

'Back to normal activities after five days,' Hardy panted. 'It's been a week.'

She undid his belt swiftly. His own hands scrabbled at her clothing.

'So many buttons,' he complained.

Miller undid his fly and slid her hand into his pants. A tremulous groan spread through him as she started a slow, tugging motion, coaxing him to full hardness.

People, like planets, have atmospheres. As he crept further beneath the protective layer surrounding her, pulled away her clothing, slipped inside that aura that had once seemed so impenetrable, Hardy discovered Miller's was composed of pure oxygen. Her kisses exorcised the watery ghosts dwelling in his chest and filled his lungs with air, with life, with _her, her, her._

With the last of their clothes flung aside, they retreated to the safety of the bed. Drawing her down, Hardy slipped his fingers inside her. She jerked violently, and he knew she was thinking of another man’s caress. His touch was resurrecting thoughts of Joe, of long nights spent fumbling in the dark, of a murder, a betrayal, a trial… he could feel it all swirling inside her. He could taste it on her tongue.

‘Stay with me,’ he whispered, kissing her. ‘Stay.’

She understood him at once, like his thoughts were her own. Right now, they have no past. No future. There is no yesterday or tomorrow, no baggage and no consequences. There is nothing but here and now, nothing but pulsing flesh and fluttering hearts and heavy gasps laden with desire.

She sighed and relaxed into his touch, giving in to the needs and desires of the present. He sank his fingers deeper inside of her and rotated his hand to find the best position. His fingers crooked hard, hitting the sweet spot and her back arched. It wasn't long before she was pushing him down and straddling him.

Taking his cock in her hand, she guided it into her body and settled on top of him with a neat twist. A short, shallow gasp escaped him. 

‘Is that okay?’ she asked.

A wince of pain troubled his expression and he shifted slightly. ‘Wait,’ he said. He caught her arms and moved until he was sitting up, his back braced against the bed frame. Now at eye level with her, he took advantage of the shift to kiss her, his hands moving to her back. ‘Okay,’ he murmured into her mouth.

Miller refolded her legs against his thighs and settled down again. Hardy broke the kiss, his breathing laboured, and stared into her eyes as she began to move. This position was so close, so _intimate._ She could see the fractured patterns of his brown irises. She could feel every intake of breath. She could hear his heartbeat pounding like clockwork. It was almost too intense. She had to look away, but not for one second did Hardy’s gaze ever leave her face.

‘Fuck,’ she heard him say, his voice strangled.

His fingers dug into her buttocks, squeezing tight. Then he moved one hand to fumble at the space between her legs, finding the clitoris with some difficulty. As soon as he had, Miller made a strangled noise of her own. He moved in slow, methodical circles, matching the rhythm of her hips.

A weak orgasm shuddered through her and she cried out. She was almost embarrassed by how quickly it had come over her. Hardy rode it out with her, then moved both hands to her hips and rolled her against him, rocking her back and forth.

With Hardy so afflicted, it all depended on her stamina. She tried to take it slow, but his insistent touch soon had her riding him hard and fast, heedless of the growing pain in her muscles.

Hardy nipped and sucked at her throat. He pulled her hair. He pinched her nipples and squeezed her breasts. One hand slipped lower to continue their ministrations between her thighs. Bracing herself against the bed frame with both hands, she used its leverage to bolster her flagging strength. Throwing back her head, she manoeuvred her hips in a way that made Hardy see stars. He bit down on her shoulder to muffle his moans.

‘I love you,’ she heard him whisper as he came undone. His breath on her neck was like a brand. ‘ _I love you, Ellie_.’

Her own breath caught in her throat. Her fingers spasmed, clawing at his body. She came hard around him, her cries fluttering and dying as they tried to escape her lungs.

In the aftermath, neither of them could speak. They breathed heavily, trying to restore some natural rhythm, some sense of reality to this dreamlike state. Time in all its linear tyranny settled upon them once more.

Hardy tried to kiss her. She turned away.

‘Cramp,’ she muttered.

He let her roll off and she collapsed next to him in a heap. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, acutely aware of the dull ache between her legs and the unpleasant cramping sensation in her thighs. Finally, she got up.

‘I need…’ she frowned, struggled for the word, and pointed at the bathroom. ‘I need… the thing.’

She saw him nod. He was watching her intently, his eyes lambent and huge.

Miller slipped into the bathroom, turned on the light and carefully closed the door behind her. The harsh, almost clinical brightness hurt her eyes and she had to shield them until they adjusted. When she looked up, she found herself staring at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

She did not recognise what she saw.

She looked at the sagging breasts, the slumped shoulders, the caesarean scar across her stomach. She looked at the wild hair, the tired brown eyes, the purple hickeys materialising on her neck. Leaning against the basin to take the weight off her trembling legs, she pushed her hair from her eyes and tried to make sense of the stranger she was seeing.

It was no good. Quietly, she folded the toilet lid and sat on it. The cold plastic made her legs break out in goosebumps. Staring contemplatively at the tiles beneath her bare feet for a moment, she placed her head in her hands and began to cry.

The gentle knock came, inevitably, only a few minutes later.

‘Are you okay, Ellie?’

His voice was a double-edged sword slicing into her reverie. It made her unaccountably angry.

‘Go away.’

‘Are you crying?’

‘I said go away!’

‘I’m coming in.’ The handle turned.

Miller leapt up at once and braced herself against the door, cursing the hotel for not installing a lock. ‘I said piss off!’

‘Ellie, let me in. Please.’

_I love you. I love you Ellie._

Another man had said those words to her, a lifetime ago.

‘Don’t call me Ellie!’ she shouted, letting the door go.

Hardy poked his head inside. ‘You seriously want me to call you Miller after that?’ he asked as he entered. He had put on trousers but his chest was bare. The sight of the white bandage over his heart made her throat close over a little and she couldn’t bear to look at him.

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’ She retreated to the toilet, sat down and leaned over, crossing her arms to cover herself. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

Hardy stood there awkwardly for a moment. She heard him exit the room. A few seconds later he returned and she felt his shadow fall upon her. The next thing she knew, something soft settled around her shoulders.

Jerking upright, she was surprised to find Hardy was laying a hotel dressing gown around her, a thick, dark towelling robe that smelled faintly of lavender. He was wearing an identical one around his own shoulders. Gratefully, she pulled the robe on and tied the cord, wiping her nose on one of the sleeves.

‘Do you want to talk?’

Miller didn’t respond. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to compose herself enough to hold a conversation. Hardy watched her pensively.

‘Was it really that bad?’ he blurted.

She snorted. _So like a man,_ she thought. It was almost comforting. ‘No,’ she responded. ‘It wasn’t bad.’ _It was wonderful._

And that, really, was the problem. It was good. She _liked_ it. God help her, she liked fucking Alec Hardy. She liked fucking the man who had been assigned to investigate the murder of her best friend’s son. She liked fucking the man who had arrested her husband for murder. She liked fucking the man she’d been accused of committing adultery with. She liked fucking him. She liked it.

_I love you. I love you, Ellie._

The guilt crashed over her and she started crying again. Hardy made a panicked noise and reached for her, but his fingers stopped short. Unsure of what to do, he sat down next to her. There was a small alcove between the shower cubicle and the toilet and it was into this space he secreted himself, waiting for her sobs to subside.

‘What a fucked-up mess this is,’ Miller croaked at last.

‘I’m sorry.’ He looked up at her, his eyes darting furtively along her body. ‘I shouldn’t have… I took advantage and I should’ve known -’

‘Oh no. Don’t you dare try to take the blame for this. This is my fault as much as yours.’

‘I never did have the best timing,’ Hardy said, trying to fill the silence. ‘First time I ever told Tess I loved her was right after her father died. I thought it would be comforting. You know… let her know that I was there for her and all that. Apparently it’s not the sort of thing you should put on someone’s shoulders after a loss.’

‘Sounds like the sort of thing you'd do.'

Hardy drew his knees to his chest. ‘You were my first,’ he admitted after a long pause.

‘First what?’

‘After Tess.’

She looked down at him. ‘You mean…?’

He nodded.

‘Oh.’ She had been so caught up in her own feelings, she had not considered how this might be affecting him. ‘I’m sorry. Are you… okay?’

‘It was nice,’ he shrugged.

‘Yes,’ Miller agreed. ‘It was. Twice.’

She looked down at him and laughed. He allowed himself the tiniest smug smile. Slipping from the toilet seat, Miller joined him on the bathroom floor and wedged herself in next to him. He placed his right arm around her and she rested her cheek on his chest, her fingers toying with the fabric of his dressing gown. The tiles beneath were cold and unforgiving, sharply juxtaposed against Hardy’s warmth.

‘I am sorry,’ he reiterated.

‘So am I.’

‘I don’t think either of us were ready.’

‘No.’

‘But it _was_ nice.’

‘Yes.’

She felt him kiss her hair. He nuzzled her with his nose and rested his chin on top of her head. She slipped her hand inside the fold of his dressing gown and placed it over the bandage she found within.

‘Did you mean it?’ she asked.

‘Mean what?’

‘What you said.’ When Hardy remained silent, she prompted, ‘about loving me.’

She could feel his heart beating. He grunted and nodded once, stiffly.

‘That’s good,’ she murmured. She traced shapes on his chest with her fingertip. ‘Because I think I love you too.’

For half a second, he stopped breathing. If she hadn’t been pressed against him, it would have been imperceptible. Raising his left hand, he placed it over Miller’s, drew it to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

‘I guess we both have bad timing,’ she continued ruefully.

‘I want to take you out,’ he declared suddenly. ‘You, Tom and Fred. When Joe’s been sentenced and we’re done with the Sandbrook case, we’ll do something nice together. All four of us.’

‘Five,’ Miller corrected gently. ‘Daisy should come too.’

‘Yeah.’ There was a tremor to his voice. ‘Daisy too.’

‘I’ve always wanted to meet her. Do you think she’ll like me?’

A broad smile spread across his face. ‘Yeah. I told her about you on the phone today. Told her I had this friend looking after me. Bossing me around, keeping me in line. She laughed when I said that.’

The fingers of his left hand interlaced with her right. His thumb covered hers and he stroked it back and forth.

‘When this is all over,’ Miller said, ‘we’ll do it.’

‘Aye. When it’s all over.’

They held each other for several more minutes. Finally, Miller said:

‘Do you mind if we get up now? My arse is freezing on these tiles.’

‘Mine too.’

Miller freed herself from him and stood up. The cramp had returned to her leg and she hopped up and down, stretching it out. Hardy got up behind her, wincing and reaching for the shape of the pacemaker beneath his skin.

'All good?’ she asked. ‘You’re not going to have a heart attack, are you?’

He looked unimpressed. ‘The chances of that happening during sex are a million to one.’

‘Just making sure.’

They left the bathroom and approached the bed. Automatically, Miller went right and Hardy went to his side on the left.

 _His side,_ she thought, smiling. She took her dressing gown and got into the bed. The sheets were cold against her bare skin. She rarely slept naked and it made her feel uncomfortable.

‘Wish I had my PJs,’ she sighed.

‘You can borrow my t-shirt if you like,’ Hardy offered. ‘Might make you more comfy.’

Miller hesitated. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

She got out again, retrieved her knickers, and tugged them on. Hardy held out his white undershirt to her and she pulled it over her head. It smelled of him, of sweat and deodorant and cheap aftershave.

Somehow, the prospect of sleeping in his t-shirt seemed _more_ intimate than fucking him.

‘Bit weird, isn’t it?’ she said as they got into bed. Hardy removed his dressing gown and trousers, electing to sleep in his boxers. ‘You’re not a cuddler, are you?’

‘Not now I’m not. I can only sleep on my back.’

‘Oh, so you _are_. I bloody knew it.’

He did not rise to her teasing. She flicked off the lamp, flooding the room with darkness. Hardy shifted into the most comfortable position, lying as straight and still as a corpse. When he was settled, Miller rolled onto her side and scooted close to him. She kissed his shoulder and draped one arm over his stomach. Her fingers danced across his skin, spelling out a thousand reasons to live.

After a long moment, she whispered fearfully, ‘What are we going to do?'

'Shh,' he murmured. 'It'll be all right, Ellie. We'll figure it out, I promise. For now, sleep.'

She exhaled and closed her eyes, her hand growing still on his stomach.

That night, Hardy dreamed of the future.


End file.
